


Confetti

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Series: Chopped Challenge Fics [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Memories, Pre-Canon, Speculation, ghost character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: The cold of a blade... and darkness. That's the last thing she remembers before she wakes to find herself, 5 years old, running into her mother's arms... and then herself on the day she met lexa... and then... and then...So... this must be what happens when you die.Submission for Chopped round 2!2nd place for best use of ghost character trope2nd place for the joke kiss turned real kiss trope





	Confetti

**Author's Note:**

> The way Costia falls through her memories was inspired by the concept of the Bent Neck Lady haunting Nellie, falling into her own life, but in like... a not horror-movie type of way. So she is falling through some of her important memories before seeing the response to her own death, as a ghost.

She had expected herself to be shaking with fear. In the days she had spent captive in this icy place, she knew her fate, without question. They had brought her to their camp, a bag over her head hiding their path, the growing chill in the air the only sure sign of where she was going, and when they removed her hood and called her by name, evoking _her_, she knew.

She had expected to be overwhelmed with fear of her impending death, but the hour was finally upon her, and she felt… strangely calm. She felt the fear, almost like an afterthought, an acknowledgement of what she should be feeling leaving a residue on her skin. She thought absently that she hoped they would not cut her hair, which seemed a silly, almost childish concern in the face her own doom.

The soldiers on either side of her pushed her to her knees, and she closed her eyes, expecting the shakes that came with terror to begin at any moment, but they never came.

With her eyes closed she saw her.

Her love.

Her green eyes bright like beacons behind her eyelids.

Her long brown hair shining in the light from some unseen source.

Her long fingers outstretched, reaching for her.

She felt the cold of a sword blade finding is place on her neck and heard the swoosh of metal cutting through the air.

She squeezed her eyes closed, and saw Lexa again, a bright smile across her long, beautiful face.

And the world went dark.

\---

When she opened her eyes, she was in her childhood home, her mother standing beside their hearth, stirring a pot full of some warm red stew.

“Mother,” she whispered, glee and awe in equal measure, as she stepped forward to touch her arm, to bury her face into her neck and remember the smell of her, but as she reached out, she heard loud footsteps of a child running wildly behind her and turned just in time to see her own self, barely 5 years old, running at a breakneck speed through the house and directly through her, wrapping her arms around the waist of her mother and pressing her face into her belly.

“Mama, I’m so hungry.” She heard herself whine, earning a soft chuckle from her mother.

She felt desperate, reaching out for her mother, her fingers passing through her mother’s solid form without resistance.

“MOTHER!” she cried out, trying to get her attention. She screamed it, over and over again, until her voice was hoarse, watching has her mother weaved her thick, tight coils of black hair into braids close against her head. She watched her mother love her, and care for her, and tears fell down her face as she screamed for her.

She sank to her knees at her mother’s feet, watching her mother pull strongly against her hair, and listened to her soothing words as she whispered soft stories about tales of times of old and people long dead. Tales of great warrior women and the gods of cultures long dead.

She watched as the tears dripped down her face and fell down, down, down, leaving no mark upon the floor.

She remembered this day. Her mother had braided her hair back into tight plaits on her head and threaded pretty blue beads into the ends of the braids, so they clacked against one another as she ran freely in the village. Her mother had told her the story of a god called Athena, who had been born from the head of her father. He had swallowed her mother whole upon learning of her pregnancy, to hide his infidelity from his wife, but his wife had lived inside him, growing his child and giving birth to her. The god had complained of a headache when Athena had built her own armour inside his skull, and had his blacksmith split his head open, where she emerged full grown and fully armoured from the crack, the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy of a long dead culture. It had been one of her favourite stories, and the day her mother told it to her for the first time, while twisting and pulling her hair into submission, she had seen the fantastic image of a tall, powerful woman emerging from a skull in her own mind, and had later spent the day retelling the story to all her friends. It was one of her favourite memories.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

She was dead, she reminded herself. Her head swiped from her shoulders in a cold and mysterious place. She opened her eyes again, looking into her mother’s face, drinking in her sharp cheekbones and warm brown skin, her thick curls tightly coiled into beautiful locs falling down long over her shoulders, tiny delicate golden clasps fastened among their multitudes and lengths. She was beautiful, her bright dark eyes warm and full of love. She stared into her eyes and allowed herself to remember all the ways her mother had ever showed her love for her.

She watched as her mother twisted the last bead into her hair and pressed a kiss into the crown of her head. Her little self stood, running from the room, and she felt herself being pulled away from the memory.

“No,” She begged, begged whoever had allowed her to find herself here, “No, please, please let me stay a little longer!” She begged, but it meant nothing. The further her little self strayed from her mother, the further she pulled.

The memory was ending, and it was time to go.

As quickly as the last memory ended, the next began.

She was only a year or so older than the last. Her hair had been placed into the early stages of locs on her 7th birthday, all from the top of her head, her mother braiding thin, tight braids with little silver rings twisted into them into the sides and shaving the bottom. The locs were only a few inches long, and the silver rings were shining in the sun, stark against her sun darkened skin, as she hid behind a tree.

She was in a forest near her village, near a grove she frequented as a child. She heard the giggling of other children nearby, and she knew suddenly what this memory was.

It was not just another day of playing in the trees with her childhood playmates. No, no this day was much more than that.

She watched as her little self hid behind the tree, her eyes sparkling, and her lips mashed together to keep her giggles trapped within. She watched as her hands fidgeted nervously against the rings she wore on her little hands.

She turned, knowing where to look before the memory of her did, and found the face she knew was there among the trees.

A little girl, herself hiding from the unseen seeker in their game. Her head was turned away, her long brown hair braided back away from her face into two thick plaits, a soft fur wrapped around her little shoulders to brace her from the wind as the winter months drew ever near. She turned back to herself, in time to watch her own eyes, young and innocent, turn and find the brown hair amongst the trees.

The other little girl turned, her bright green eyes shining with glee at their little game, meeting her own with a brilliant grin.

Lexa.

The seeker approached from some unseen place, and her little self darted through the trees towards Lexa, hiding beside her.

“Hello,” The little one whispered. “I am Lexa.”

“I am Costia.” She heard herself say, a happy chirp in her voice. “Will you be my friend?” She asked the little nightblood, such innocence in both of their eyes.

“Only if you help me win.” Lexa said, and little Costia laughed silently into her hand, before grabbing Lexa by the arm and pulling her away into the trees. She followed them as they found their way towards a tree Costia had loved as a child.

The tree had been hollowed out on the inside by rot, a monstrous thing that stood taller than all the others around it, and more than big enough to fit two small girls inside. Long vines grew up its great height, falling in a curtain, hiding the hollow middle from those who might try to find them. They climbed in and tucked their knees up to their chests, wrapping their arms around their legs and giggling silently as they heard the steps of small feet running quickly past through the forest underbrush.

They whispered to each other for hours in that place, telling each other stories and laughing well into the dark of night, before the vines lifted from the tree opening and the face of her mother peaked through, a warm smile on her face.

“It is time to come home, my sweet.” She said to Costia, and even in death she felt her heart swell at the sight of her mother once again. “And you too, little one. I’m sure there is someone looking for you so late.”

The girls giggled furiously and climbed from their little hideaway, and she felt the familiar tug, pulling her away from the memory as Lexa hugged her tight, running off in the direction of her home, and Costia followed her mother into the woods.

“Thanks for helping me win!” Lexa called from the distance, as the memory began to blur at the edges.

Just as quickly as before, a new memory came climbing into her vision as she was yanked from the old one.

She fell into a memory just about a year later, her 9-year-old self appearing before her in Lexa’s house. Her dark skin was shining with oils that she had started smearing across her body and face around that age at the instruction of her mother, her hair a bit longer.

This day she remembered too.

But not fondly.

Lexa appeared at her doorway; a wry smile etched across her mouth. Costia had not yet seen her, so she crept quietly up behind her and jumped on her, wrapping her arms around her and giggling gleefully.

“Did I scare you?” She whispered, her voice soft and sweet.

Costia, who had jumped at the sudden surprise, only laughed, turning around to face her in her arms.

“You could never frighten me, Lexa.” She laughed, before pulling herself away.

“Come, I have to tell you something!” She pulled Costia away from the house and into the woods, finding The Hiding Tree and climbing inside.

The Tree was their most secret, special place. There were rules in The Hiding Tree, of course. They spoke in whispers only, to keep away listeners. The Hiding Tree heard every secret they shared between them, a tree full of stories of little girls with wild imaginations and shared dreams. They would go there to hide away from the rest of the world and share their most precious moments with the Tree they knew was magic. 

Lexa lifted her hand, so small still, and pulled a small knife from her pocket, not hesitating before she sliced across her palm.

Black blood dripped down the knife and across her skin.

Costia gasped, grasping at her hand and pulling it close to look at blood, dripping like oil from the cut.

“A nightblood?” She whispered; her eyes wide.

“Yes!” Lexa whispered back, her smile so wide Costia could see all her teeth.

She remembered wondering why Lexa would be smiling at such horrible news. She watched as her younger self put a false smile across her face, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“Imagine it, Costia.” Lexa said, professing her greatest, most secret desire into the Tree. “Me, as Commander.”

“You would have to leave our village.” Costia whispered, her voice a little shaky. “You would have to leave me.”

Lexa’s face stoned up, an almost angry look. When she spoke, her whispers could have been screams, but Lexa would never break the rules of The Hiding Tree.

“Why are you not excited for me?” She accused, her green eyes flashing.

“Of course, I am excited for you. You would be a great commander” Little Costia reassured her, trying not to anger her friend. “I will just miss you, that is all.”

“Well I’m not leaving yet,” Lexa softened, her sharp edges smoothing over as they always did with Costia, “I haven’t told any grown-ups yet.”

“Oh good.” She whispered back, and Costia remembers the next moment before it happens.

The curtain of vines opened, and the face of Lexa’s elder brother, Tomas, emerged through the green.

“A nightblood!” He yelled, echoing loud inside of the hollow of the tree. “Wait until mother hears of this!” He yanked her from the tree, and Costia followed as her younger self chased after them.

He had been coming to find her, to bring her home for supper, and had overheard outside the tree when Lexa had revealed her secret.

The Tree could not protect them this time.

She ran after, tears falling fast down her face as Tomas dragged Lexa along towards the house.

She yelled and screamed in resistance, but it didn’t matter. The black blood dripped across the forest floor, leaving proof for all to see.

Lexa’s yells softened away as they landed at the door of the house, and the memory began to pull her away. As the edges faded, Lexa turned back, tears falling down her cheeks as her bright green eyes met Costia’s brown ones.

Tears fell down her cheeks at the sight of Lexa being pulled back into the house. She would be held there for three days to keep her from escaping, as word was sent by rider to Polis to alert the flamekeeper of the existence of another nightblood. She would be taken away, and the cavernous hole in Costia’s chest ached as much now in her own death as it had that day so long ago.

A new memory came rushing in.

It was two years after the last memory. Her locs were longer now, the years adding almost a foot of length, the heavy thick coils hung down her back now, dotted with sparkling metal cuffs.

She came into the memory as she walked through the woods again, wandering with purpose towards the secret hiding tree.

She watched as her 11-year-old self pulled the vines away from the gaping mouth of the tree and climbed inside, where a waiting Lexa sat smiling.

She had grown taller too, her limbs long and gangly and her thick braids more intricate, and she remembered thinking she was the most beautiful girl in the whole village, maybe the whole wide world, when they were that age. She remembered this day well, and her heart leapt once again.

Lexa had come back from Polis for a month during the summer that year and had been glued to Costia’s side. They had spent their days tucked in their tree, hiding away from the world. Costia had secretly hoped the tree would just close up around them and seal them inside, where the magic of the tree would surely keep them alive forever.

“A girl tried to kiss me yesterday.” Whispered Lexa, her eyes wide.

“Did you let her?” Little Costia replied, always at a whisper.

“No, of course not. I don’t know how to kiss.” Lexa giggled, rolling her eyes. She watched herself, proud that she had held steady, because she knew inside, she was filled with some hard to explain joy at the idea that Lexa would not kiss someone else.

“You have to kiss someone to learn how to do it, silly.” She scolded. “Everyone must learn at some point.”

“How would you know,” Lexa scoffed, “you haven’t ever kissed anyone either.”

“You don’t have to kiss to know that!” Costia shook her head at Lexa’s snickering. “Besides, how do you know I haven’t kissed anyone?”

It was a lie. Costia had never kissed anyone at that age, but she had said it anyway.

“You haven’t.” Lexa said, but it wasn’t unkind.

“Why not?” Costia was defensive, but Lexa’s smile was too bright to allow her to be angry. “You were gone for a long time; I could have kissed someone.”

“I know you haven’t because you would have told me if you had, here in The Tree.” Lexa said, a little proud. She knew her too well.

Costia just huffed out a breath of air, shaking her head and smiling.

“Why were you afraid to kiss her? She probably never kissed anyone either.” Little Costia said, picking at the moss on the ground at her feet.

“I wasn’t afraid!” Lexa huffed, but she was looked at her own feet too.

She felt her heart swell as she watched them. So little, so unaware of what was to come. She remembered this day, and what was about to happen, so clearly in her mind’s eye. The day that somehow changed nothing and everything at once. She reached, forgetting for a moment that she was not able to make contact, to brush her fingers against the moss on the ground and remember its damp softness against the tips of her fingers.

“Maybe,” Little Lexa said, her voice unsure and soft, even in The Hiding Tree, “We could learn together.”

“What?”

“Well… We both don’t know how to kiss, but one day someone might try to kiss us. Maybe we could try it, and teach each other?”

“Teach each other to kiss?”

“Yes. Maybe?” Lexa suddenly seemed nervous, which Costia remembered finding strange. Fearful, sure. Afraid at times even. But Lexa was never nervous.

“Yes,” She heard her little self say, quickly. She remembered worrying that she had said it too quickly, but little Lexa had just smiled.

Lexa scooted towards the middle of the circle and leaned across the space towards her, stopping in the middle.

“Costia?” Lexa whispered, after a moment of waiting.

“I don’t know…” Little Costia had been so unsure, so afraid of what it could mean to kiss her friend. “What if… Well, shouldn’t we learn from people who already know how to kiss? Wouldn’t learning from each other just-”

“I dare you to kiss me in The Hiding Tree, Costia.” Her voice came at almost normal volume, which felt bigger and more important inside The Tree.

That was another rule of The Hiding Tree. Any dare made in the tree had to be fulfilled. The tree held all their secrets, it was a special, magical little place, and to hold its magic, the dares were binding. She watched her own little face scrunch up in irritation at being held to the rules she had helped make, but she scooted herself into the middle too, and leaned her face forward until their noses were touching.

“Are you scared?” Costia whispered into the space between their faces, such a little space.

Lexa looked right into her eyes, and Costia knew she was, even if she wouldn’t say it.

“No, silly. It’s just a dare.” And with that, she pressed her lips into Costia’s with without any hesitation.

She remembered this moment better than almost any other in her whole life. The smell of the wood rot wet and sweet in the air, the feeling of the damn moss and dying underbrush soft beneath her, the way Lexa’s hair smelled like pine needles and how soft her lips were.

She watched as they held the kiss for just a moment, lips pressed together in their secret place, before little Lexa pulled away. 

For just a moment, they sat silently, something heavy and new between them.

Costia would always remember this next moment as the bravest moment in her life.

She watched as her little self lurched forward, lifting her hands to hold Lexa’s neck and pull her gently forward, kissing her for again.

They kissed the way children kiss, just pushing their lips together, too uncertain to do anything more, but Costia remembers it being the warmest memory of her whole childhood.

“COSTIA!” A voice yelled, the voice of a teacher from her youth, and she smiled softly as both little girls leapt at the sound, like they had somehow been caught doing something they ought not to. Costia watched as her younger self went to stand, and Lexa leaned up and kissed her again, just a gentle kiss, meant as a goodbye, but there, in The Hiding Tree, Costia had known it was more.

As she watched herself climb out of the tree, she watched young Lexa fade from her view, and she disappeared from view as the memory faded away.

The next memory was loud, a roaring crowd, and she knew this day better than any other in all her memories.

She found herself amidst the crowd, her hands covering her eyes as Lexa swung her swords round and round, before making contact with the neck of the boy she was fighting. There were only two other nightbloods left in the conclave, after Luna had fled after the first round, and Lexa had defeated every nightblood in her path since.

The next girl entered the ring, her hands shaking. She couldn’t be older than 10, fighting a 12-year-old girl, and everyone knew that Lexa was the best nightblood novitiate of them all. The girl was dead in minutes, and the next challenger entered the circle, raising his sword above him.

The last battel lasted only moments, but Costia could barely watch, even though she knew how it ended. She watched her little self, a girl of 13, cover her eyes, remembering the way each clang of the sword shook her, both striking her with fear and also serving to reassure her that Lexa was still fighting.

She heard the crowd erupt into cheers before her little self opened her eyes, and she watched as Titus lifted Lexa’s arm above her head in triumph.

Lexa kom Trikru, the next Commander.

The memory was shorter than the rest, the edges fading as Lexa was lifted from the ground by her new subjects, and carried towards the tower, but the next memory was later that very same day.

She faded in to find herself sitting on the floor of the bedroom of the Commander, watching as Lexa stood before the mirror in her cape and armour.

“Do you like it?” Lexa asked, peering over her shoulder at Costia who was fiddling with the fur on the rug beneath her.

“It suits you.” She responded, barely glancing up.

Lexa turned fully now; her eyes were sad.

“What is the matter, Costia?”

“I want to go home; I want you to come home with me. I don’t want this, Lexa.” She whispered, still looking at the floor beneath her. “I am happy that you won, of course. I am happy you lived, and I am proud of you. But this changes everything. I will go home, and you will stay here, all alone.”

Lexa walked over to kneel before her little self, and the sun shone through the windows on her beautiful face.

She remembered wanting to badly to kiss Lexa in this moment, to lean forward and press their lips together, but the face of Lexa was no longer only the face of her friend, or the face of the girl she thought maybe she loved. She was the Commander, and all the rules had changed. She watched as Lexa reached forward to lift her chin with one finger, and she remembered the cold of it against her chin.

“Why would you leave me?” Lexa whispered, and her voice seemed sad. “Do you not love me, Costia?”

At 13, she had been sure Lexa meant love the way you loved all your friends. But now, in her death, watching… the look in Lexa’s eyes was so familiar. Lexa had loved her even then, and she had loved her the same.

“Of course, I do.” Costia had answered, avoiding her eyes. “But I cannot leave my mother, our village…”

“But you would leave me?” Lexa asked, sinking fully to sit back on her heels.

“You are the Commander. I will not go if you tell me to stay.”

“I would never _tell _you to stay.” Lexa answered, quick and fierce, angry at the insinuation.

Costia stood, and she lurched forward to catch herself, her hand passing through the solid of her own skin. She wanted to beg herself to stay, that they would have so little time, but she couldn’t.

“Will you ever come back?” Lexa asked, her voice cracking under the weight of her newfound glory. “I will miss you too much to bear.”

“Of course I will come back.” Costia whispered, and walked over to Lexa’s kneeling frame, pressing a kiss into her forehead above the symbol of the Commanders that was sealed onto her skin. “I will always come back to you.” She breathed, before standing straight and walking out the door, the memory fading as quickly as it had come.

She saw herself, yet again, but this time a face she hadn’t seen in a memory appeared next to her.

Her uncle.

This memory made her heart ache in her chest, which seemed almost silly now that she was dead.

Her mother’s funeral. 

She watched herself watch her mother’s body be lifted onto the pyre, her white linen dress stark against her dark skin.

She had been sure she would fill the sea with her tears that day, unable to see through the saltwater pooling in her eyes and falling from her jawbone to the ground.

“Where will you go?” Her uncle had asked, after the funeral was over and everyone had gone, and it wasn’t unkind. He knew there was nothing left for her in their village without her mother. Her family had all died, and…

She remembered thinking of Lexa’s long brown hair at that moment and being unsure of the warmth she felt in her chest while she was still watching the lingering smoke curl into the sky above the burnt pyre.

She watched herself turn to face her uncle, his eyes soft and sad, and he nodded to her kindly.

“I will go to Polis.” She whispered, turning back to face the smouldering ash.

“Of course you will.” He said, taking her hand.

They stood until the ash had cooled, weeping freely, and then the memory began to pull away as she walked back to her home.

She knew the next memory before it even happened.

She was pulled into the elevator to the throne room at Polis, fidgeting with her fingertips in anticipation. She had packed her bags and settled her mother’s affairs, and two weeks after the funeral, she began the trek to Polis. She had sent no word to Lexa, and now she realised that she was showing up, after leaving her three years before, without word of her arrival, no idea how she might be received. Her heart had been beating furiously in her chest.

The elevator doors opened, and she stood back to watch as the most unexpected thing happened.

The doors finally creaked open, and her 16-year-old self stepped through the opening, and was instantly bowled over by a blur of brown and red. She had taken a moment to get her bearings before she realised it was _Lexa_.

Her arms were wrapped around her neck, her face buried into her shoulder, clinging to her. After a moment she realised Lexa had been whispering, which now became clearer.

“_I missed you, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you…” _Lexa was whispering over and over again, her voice soft and fervent in her ear.

“I missed you too.” She heard herself whisper, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt into Lexa’s shoulder.

She looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Titus, whose face was stony and furious.

She was pulled away from the throne room as Lexa dragged her younger self into her room, shutting them away from the world, but she had never, in all of her days, forgotten that look that she had received from Titus.

She watched, smiling, as Lexa pulled her into the room, shutting the door, and rounding on her to pull her into a kiss.

She remembered this kiss, because it was the first real kiss she remembered ever having. The kisses they had shared as children had been real in a different way, and she had kissed two other girls after leaving Polis, but… Lexa was something else entirely.

She watched as Lexa pushed her against the door, lacing her fingers into her locs and pulling her in close. Lexa kissed her fiercely, and she remembered feeling almost afraid of all the feelings the kiss brought forth. She had kissed back, as fiercely as she could manage, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist and pulling her in close, licking softly against her lips and tracing her teeth with the tip of her tongue. She remembered pulling Lexa’s hand down to fit it around her own waist and curling on of her soft brown braids around her finger as Lexa kissed down her neck and over her jaw.

Lexa finally broke away, breathless, her pupils dark but her face soft and gentle.

“I love you.” Whispered Lexa as she traced her jaw with the tip of her finger, curling around a thick loc and looking at her toes. “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

“I’m just glad you were here when I came back.” She whispered, leaning in to press a kiss into Lexa’s cheek. “I love you too.”

Lexa kissed her again, and the memory began to pull, because someone would come knocking in a moment and Lexa would leave her sitting in the room while she attended to her duties. The days would be long and sometimes lonely to start, but she would stay with Lexa for the rest of her life, building a life with her in Polis.

What came next was a blur of memories, coming and going fast. Moments in her childhood with her mother, kisses in bed with Lexa, beautiful places she had visited, her father’s smile, they came rushing forward, and, as abruptly as they had begun, they ended, dropping her into Lexa’s bedroom.

She didn’t see herself anywhere, and Lexa was still asleep, she wasn’t sure what memory this could be, waiting patiently to be shown some evening that had been lost in the years she spent there.

What came next was not a memory, however.

The door to Lexa’s room came open, but it was not Costia who entered.

Anya walked in, along with one of Lexa’s guards, and Titus.

This was not a memory at all, she realised, as she looked down to find a box in the guard’s hands.

Anya softly woke Lexa, her eyes already shining with tears, and whispered that there was news of Costia.

The guard laid the box on the floor, and Lexa stoned herself, walking forwards to kneel before the box. She watched her love as she swallowed hard, her eyes already full of tears, before she lifted the lid from the box.

The noise she heard from Lexa’s mouth was not a noise she had ever heard before.

She wailed, screaming into the dark as the lid fell from her hands, revealing Costia’s own head.

Lexa’s voice echoed through the tower, screams and cries of grief and fury falling like rain over the city.

It must have been only a few moments, but the way Lexa sounded made Costia feel as if it had been hours. She forgot her situation for a moment, rushing forward to hold her but passing right through as her darling wept.

Titus came up, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and asking what she would like to do, but he was met with wails rather than words.

She wept and wept and wept, until the darkness of the night had changed to the brightness of midmorning. The box lay open on her floor as she wailed. Anya tried to speak with her, Titus tried to speak with her, but she never spoke, only screamed.

At a certain point, it seemed as though exhaustion had taken over, and Lexa’s wailing subsided as she fell into a stupor, her eyes glassy and vacant, her face gaunt. Anya lifted the box, putting the lid back on and going to remove it from the room, but Lexa lifted her hand out. They settled the box back down, and Lexa pulled a knife from Anya’s belt, cutting a loc with a bright purple clasp attached which Lexa had given her as a gift.

“Bur-buh-burn…” She tried to speak, but when she tried to speak the tears came rushing back, and her throat closed around the sound.

“We will give her a proper ceremony.”

Lexa gestured wildly at her own body, a quiet sob shaking her chest.

“It is likely we will never find her body, my dear.” Costia wondered vaguely what had been done with her body, but she assumed it was of no concern of hers.

They lifted the box and carried it away, and she was pulled along, as if her ghost was attached to her head somehow. She was placed in an ornate basket, and a pyre was built for her.

Lexa stood tall at the ceremony, lighting the pyre herself, her face a strange, emotionless place. Costia had never seen her life this before, and her heart ached for her love.

She stood by her side, watching her own pyre burn above her, and the longer the burning went on, the less connected she felt to the images before her. Knowing it was fruitless, she reached over and glanced her fingers over Lexa’s cheek, tracing the track of a tear as it fell.

“I love you” She whispered, wishing they could go back to The Hiding Tree again, and be swallowed whole.

“Yu gonplei ste udon” Lexa whispered, and the last tear streaked down her face as she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, there was nothing behind them but anger.

She felt herself being pulled away, and she yelled out for Lexa, but it mattered not.

The vision went dark, and she felt herself being pulled away, and part of her knew that part of Lexa had died with her.


End file.
